A Sea of Bells
by mysedai
Summary: A short, romanticized account of Elena and Stefan's wedding, so far written from Stefan's, Damon's, and Bonnie's points-of-view. Future chapters from the other participants' points-of-view expected.
1. Stefan

I wait in the little library of the church, along with my brother, for the bells to signal the end of dozens and dozens of lifetime's waiting. At six o'clock, I will make my way up the stairs, not to the sanctuary, where such rituals usually take place, but to a balcony bathed in the golden light of the sunset across the River Tiber.

My brother is unusually quiet, though for once in our too long lives he doesn't seem to be brooding. I know today is difficult for Damon; he loves Elena as much as I do, and it is only to fulfill her wishes that he is here now. I know that without his presence the day would be incomplete, and that even if he isn't here for me I owe him a debt far greater than I can repay.

I survey my brother is his elegant black suit. It is expensive, and he is as comfortable in it as he would be in his own skin. He lounges against an arched window, with an ancient leather bound book open in his hands. His lips move along as he reads in Latin, but every so often he glances up at me.

I pretend I don't notice him surveying me. I pretend I don't know that he's wishing that Elena will change her mind and run off with him. He imagines kissing her, then scooping her into his arms and bounding gracefully over the balustrade with Elena's white dress fluttering behind like a flag of her surrender.

But Elena doesn't change her mind once it's made up, so acting oblivious is the only gift I can give him today. Besides Elena, I love my brother more than anybody in this world, and I would almost give her up for the sake of his happiness. That's if the choice were mine to make.

I decide that I will arrange for the two of them to have a moment alone after the ceremony. Of course, I must me subtle. If Damon suspects I've had a hand in it, he'll hide behind his usual façade of bitter sarcasm. Elena needs this conversation, too. I know that she's never truly confronted her own feelings for Damon, mostly out of respect for my feelings.

Of course, Elena loves Damon. I've known that for years, and I've made peace with it. Perhaps knowing how devoted Elena is to our love is what gave me the strength to do so. Our love is a great white shining thing, made of poet's dreams, and the angel's sighs. It is the blending of two souls who would never be parted. It is the salvation of a doomed man name Salvatore.

Damon doesn't understand such things. Our souls are opposite of one another; if mine is soft, his is keen as a razor. Where I gravitate to grace and beauty, he is pulled by excitement and passion. Only Elena, angel and siren in one beautiful creature, could capture both our hearts and imaginations so completely.

The bells chime as I contemplate my brother, and he snaps his book shut, sliding it back into its place on the shelf. He takes a critical look at me, and steps across the room toward me, "Look at you, covered in dust." He speaks to me in Italian, in a style of speech not heard in centuries. It is the language of our childhood, and I am overwhelmed by this display of fraternity, as he wipes the imagined dust from my lapels.

The bells finish ringing, and he takes my face in his hands, kissing me on each cheek, in a way that was familiar four centuries earlier, he grasps my right forearm with his right hand, and I return the grasp. We look into each other's eyes, and I thank all the gods for this moment. The return of my brother would have been impossible if not for the will of my fiancé, and even if I didn't love her beyond the limits of reason, I would be eternally grateful for this gift. Roughly, I grab him in a quick, but tight embrace.

At the top of the stairs, I take a moment to watch the sun sinking slowly to the horizon, its rays reflecting off the swiftly moving water. I look at a scene that has inspired a thousand paintings, but I cannot fully appreciate its beauty today when I await something far more radiant.

A very slight intake of breath makes me turn away from the panorama, and it is forgotten as my eyes take in what Damon's have already seen.

Elena.

She stands in a shaft of golden sunlight, and her gown is made of simple white silk that falls elegantly to her feet. It is sleeveless, and her skin is flawless porcelain, only a shade darker than the silk. The neckline is a wide v that showcases her long neck and graceful shoulders. She wears her golden hair up in a classic style, and a short veil hides the details of her perfect face.

Behind her, walks Bonnie, her fiery curls not quite tamed by the clips that hold it in place, wearing a gown of silver satin. The years since Elena's rebirth seem not to have touched her any more than they've touched Elena, but while Elena seems to have stopped aging, Bonnie's face has become smooth and ageless; the face of a still-young witch.

Someday, I reflect, Bonnie's life will start to move forward again. She will find a mate, raise children, and make a home. She won't make a conscious decision to begin ageing, but when she is ready for her life to enter the next stage with her loved ones she will, just as naturally as breathing.

Next to her, Meredith shows the years that haven't touched either of her two best friends, but they have given her poise and even more of the quiet, dignified strength that has always been her most prominent feature. She looks like an Italian dream with her olive-toned skin shining beneath the sun of her ancestors. Her dress is made of the same silver satin as Bonnie's but the cut is different, and it beneath it, her stomach is just starting to proudly push forward. She doesn't smile as Elena walks the remaining space to me, but the expression on her face is both serene and satisfied.

The seconds slip past, as I stand in thrall of Elena's perfection. My brother steps lightly forward, and before fear of his actions can register, he holds his arm out to her. She places her hand in the crook of his elbow, and lets him lead her to stand before me.

With a gentle caress that I pretend not to notice, Damon takes Elena's hand and places it inside mine. Our fingers twine, and she hands her bouquet to Bonnie, so that both our hands can join.

Then, the priest begins to speak the words that will bind us for an eternity. Like millions of lovers before us, Elena and I pledge to love and hold one another faithfully until the end of time, but for us, the words have a deeper, more complex meaning. We have until the end of time, and on the Last Morning, we will love each other still.

As the last of the sunset fades away to twilight, the priest declares us husband and wife. My heart soars as I slide a ring of platinum inlaid with lapis lazuli onto her finger. She slides a matching ring onto mine, and we kiss gently. I realize, at the touch of her lips, that after four hundred years of searching, my life is whole.

Under his breath, Damon whispers, "Perfect," and Elena and I tear our eyes from one another to see him smiling down at his watch. At that moment, the church's bell begins to ring, heavy and slow, while across the city, a shorus of bells begin to peal and chime, proclaiming our union. Down in the street, a young mother points to us, showing us to her young daughter. The girl claps her hands, and laughs happily as I wrap my arm around her waist, our left hands still entwined.

Elena smiles back, and tosses her bouquet, which seems to drift gently down to the woman's outstretched hand. She hands it to the child and waves to my wife in appreciation, before continuing on her way.

I look to my brother, who looks at Elena with only the barest trace of longing in his eyes. Then, he takes a deep breath and asks if he may kiss his new sister. Gently, he lays his lips upon her forehead, and I realize that the sea of bells only represents what he is really giving us this day: acceptance, approval, love.

From the corner of my eye, I see Elena's right hand take Damon's, even as she holds my own in her left. The three of joined thus, we watch the night envelop the city around us.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this little piece of fluff as much as I enjoyed writing it. I thought that a trip to the Savatores' native lands might be a good place for the two to leave the past behind them, for once and for all. It seemed poetic for them to come full circle in the same place they became such bitter rivals.

Please review, if you have a moment. I'd love to hear what you think about both the story and the writing. I'm always trying to improve, and feedback is the best way for me to do that.

Thank you,

Mysti


	2. Damon

I don't understand it. I will never understand it, I decide, even with millennia to try and reason it out.

I was a man of action, and vampiredom only magnified the trait. Even when I am still, my stillness is an action. There is purpose and intent behind it.

And so it is with her. Elena is not one to dream aimlessly. She takes what she wants with ruthless abandon, which is something I've always admired about her. Yet, she has chosen to spend an eternity with my brother. She is a falcon on the wing, but she pretends to be a dove of peace.

It takes all my concentration to keep my frustration from showing through as I make my way to the cathedral. I hear the whispers of a group of school girls trailing behind me as they chatter excitedly about the handsome, wealthily-dressed boy walking ahead. The girls are beautiful, tender, and young; I could have any of them, but the one I want will be forever out of my reach in an hour's time.

I watch Stefan watching me while we wait in the library, though I feign interest in some ancient book. I probably should have read it when I was a student, but I didn't care for it any more then than I do now. The book is dusty and heavy, and probably worth a small fortune, but it could be a tabloid newspaper for all I care.

A better hunter than my brother would see past my charade, but of all the things I've called Stefan over the centuries, a skilled predator is not one of them. He's a terrible excuse for a vampire, but I suppose he'll make a fair enough husband. Assuming, a wife were interested in a lifetime of boredom and predictability, that is. I can't see how it will satisfy Elena.

Perhaps, she will change her mind in the eleventh hour. In my mind, I see her, turning to me, the desperation in her eyes confirming what I already know. That she loves Stefan, but she also loves me, and she cannot say the words that will keep us apart. The balcony she chose is high, but I could still carry her from it, if she gave the sign.

I want it with every fiber of my being, but I know that Elena will not change her mind. That one thing, I understand all too well. I'm not here to be her savior. All I can do is smile and offer my support.

If the situation were reversed, I wonder if Stefan would be as gallant.

After longs minutes of watching my brother unnoticed, the cathedral's bell tolls the hour, and I snap the book shut. I want to strangle him in frustration, and after centuries of doing exactly as I please, my hand reaches forward of its own volition.

_Elena,_ I remind myself, _will be angry if you do that._

I smoothly change the motion to dust at his lapels, "Look at you, covered in dust." I speak to Stefan as though the last four centuries hadn't made enemies of us, as though Katherine hadn't wrecked our lives.

Impulsively, I kiss him each cheek, a gesture of affection that is not often used in the modern world, and I am surprised when he embraces me in return.

Slowly, we make our way up of flight after flight of stairs. I follow Stefan's lead, but it seems reasonable to me that he wouldn't want to rush through even the boring parts of the day. A quick glance at my watch assures me there is plenty of time.

On the balcony, Stefan leans across the balustrade, surveying the view. I notice when he clutches his trembling hands before him, in an attempt to hide his nervousness, and I smile at the thought that maybe a fraction of his nerves are at the thought that Elena might yet come to her senses.

Then, I see her. In that moment, our eyes meet, and I see everything I need to see. I inhale sharply at the emotion in our locked gazes, then my brother turns to see what I've already spotted.

And the world stops.

The look between us was enough to make me want to carry her away, but it was pale and weak next to the look she and Stefan share. That look ignites the air around them, and the weight of it is nearly crushing.

I understand. Light burn me, but I do.

So, I step forward, and offer her my arm, which she takes with a smile. I may not have a traditional tie to Elena to give away, but as I put her hand in Stefan's, I lay down my claim to whichever part of her heart I may have held.

The words are spoken, and I look again to my watch. "Perfect." I say, just a half second before every bell in the city begins pealing. It took more than a little doing, this gift of mine. Some people were happy to help; we Italians have always been a bunch of romantic fools. Some people had been bribed, others I'd had to use the Power to convince, but every single bell was ringing.

Elena and Stefan turn to me, their smiles questioning. I raise an eyebrow, and lounge against the railing. What do they want from me, hugs and kisses? Smiles and proclamations? I'm happy for them, but my touchy-feely quota for the decade's been met.

Then, I figure, why the hell not? It's not like this day will come twice, so I shake Stefan's hand in congratulations and ask him if I may kiss my new sister.

_Sister._ That'll take some getting used to, I think with a pang of regret. But, then, Elena reaches for me with the hand Stefan doesn't hold, and a feeling of peace creeps over me as the night envelops my family.

**A/N:**

**Thanks for reading. I got several messages from people who were interested in more of this little ficlet, and today just seemed like a good day for it. The finished version of this is a lot shorter than the rough draft. What can I say? Damon just isn't as wordy as Stefan. I weeded about fifteen percent of it out to make it sound more like him, and still think I was a little pen-happy.  
**

**This one I very well may make some changes to over the next few days, but I wanted to publish it now. Otherwise, I'd have kept second-guessing myself and never done it. **

**If you have just a minute, I'd love to hear (well, read) your thoughts. Reviews are food, oxygen, and cookies for writers, you know. ^-^**

**Edited to add: Apologies to those who are waiting for the next chapter. I wrote "Bonnie" last week, but have actually managed to lose the file, so now I have to start over. I believe I will have it posted before year's end, though. Also, I fixed a very important typo in this chapter; I wonder if anybody will catch it?  
**


	3. Bonnie

Here I am in Italy; home of the hot Italian guy, and I haven't had time to flirt with even one of them in the week we've been here. Not even a little batting my eyelashes over our morning espresso, because our morning espresso has been on the go, thanks to Elena. I knew that blood oath to do whatever she wanted in relation to Stefan Salvatore all those years ago would come back to bite me at least one more time.

I get the slave driver routine, though. It's not easy to plan a wedding in a foreign country. It took a few days for Elena to find the perfect spot, and even then it was by accident. If we'd been walking up the stairs to the small sanctuary fifteen minutes later, she wouldn't have seen that balcony bathed in the light of the setting sun. The spot was so heartbreakingly perfect that not finding it would have been a tragedy.

Maybe not as much of a tragedy as my lack of hot Italian guy action, but, hey… Blood oath, remember?

Three days of pounding the pavement, or cobblestones, or whatever, to find the spot, a day to find somebody to do some last-minute alterations on Meredith's dress, a day to find a florist willing to work on such short notice… It all takes longer than it seems like it should.

But, here we are in the bridal room of this ancient church, helping Elena get ready for her wedding. Trying to make her more beautiful at this point is absolutely futile, but Meredith and I can't stop touching her, trying to make her even more perfect.

It's no surprise that we were taking getting Elena ready so seriously; weddings are always a big deal. I mean, swearing to spend the rest of your life with somebody is huge, but when the people involved are immortal, forever takes on a whole new meaning.

I asked Elena one time why she was so certain of her immortality. She just shook her head, kind of sadly, and said, "I chose to leave. They aren't too anxious to have me back."

I guess I can understand her point. What kind of reward does Heaven seem like if somebody chooses to go back for a boy? Even if the boy you're going back to _is_ Stefan. I know, it's not exactly like that, but that's how it might seem to somebody who wasn't here for the whole show.

Elena sits in a velvet upholstered chair, looking like a queen on the throne while Meredith and take care of all the little details of making her perfect for this day.

I've already done her finger- and toe-nails, and am taking a break from her makeup while Meredith rolls her long hair into a smooth chignon. We discuss leaving a few golden tendrils out curl around her face, and have almost decided to do it before Elena chimes in on the conversation.

"Leave it all up." She says firmly, "Like Grace Kelly."

She's right, of course, she always is.

"How can you be so calm?" I ask her. I firmly intend to be a gibbering mess on my own wedding day. Assuming I have one. Even Meredith lost her cool just a little before she married Alaric.

"I decided on what I wanted the rest of my life to be a long time ago." She says, catching my eyes in the huge guilt mirror. "I've fought too hard to be here today to be afraid."

"And yet I can feel you tremble just a little." Meredith says in her wry way.

"I'm excited." Elena defends herself.

"Ok," she admits under the pressure of Meredith's raised eyebrow, "I might be a little nervous. I mean, something is always trying to keep us apart, and even though he's been on his best behavior Damon's a force of nature. There's no way of knowing if he might try to carry me over the balcony, or something."

I laugh, even though she's telling the truth. Then, I shiver, because she's telling the truth.

"I think today," Meredith says seriously, "You can depend on things going to plan."

"Yeah," I chime in enthusiastically, "Nobody would be crazy enough to cross you today. Not even Damon."

"But would Damon really be crossing her? Not that he's going to do anything." Meredith backpedaled. I wonder, sometimes, if being really observant is a curse.

Elena didn't waste time pretending that Meredith was wrong. We've been friends since we were little kids, and we've seen this Elena-Stefan-Damon thing since it started.

"You know how in high school, I dated all those guys, but I was always looking for… something?" She asks us. Of course we do. Elena's been through practically every decent guy we ever knew, but she didn't find what she was looking for in any of them.

"The way I feel about Damon… It's what I was trying to find. If I'd met Damon, the real Damon, first, maybe things would be different, but it was Stefan I fell in love with. It's always been Stefan. The way I feel for Damon doesn't make me want to change my mind, it just makes me sad for what might have been."

"Look up." I advise her, back at work on her eyes, giving the room a chance to breathe after that revelation, and she does so obediently. I sweep pale shimmery bronze across her lids, and add just the barest smudge of liner to frame her blue eyes. I finish with a touch of pale rose lipstick, and bite back a touch of jealousy. I practically have to wear a truckload of makeup to keep from disappearing under bright lights, but Elena's pale beauty is flawless, as always.

"It's almost time to go." Meredith announces as she steps forward, holding Elena's gown so that she can step into it.

Wordlessly, but with a more noticeable tremor- maybe it really was just excitement- Elena lets her apricot-colored silk robe drift to the ground, and steps into the mass of silk. While I do up the long row of buttons on the back, Meredith fixes the short veil to Elena's head, and then, we're ready.

After a few minutes of hugging, giggling, and finding our bouquets, I opened the heavy doors and we began to descend the stairs to the balcony.

I thought I was prepared for what I'd see when we arrived; after all, I'd already been here to make sure the florists positioned everything exactly correctly. I knew exactly where every spray of lilies and each candle protected from the breeze by a glass chimney was placed.

What I hadn't counted on was the expression on Damon's face when he saw Elena. The look that passed between them was so powerful that I could see their auras pulling towards one another without even trying. The idea of Damon carrying her away seemed very real.

Then, Stefan turned to see what had taken Damon's breath away, and if the power of the attraction between Damon and Elena shocked me, I was in awe of what passed between her and Stefan. It was huge. It was amazing. It was, for something without actual form, surprisingly palpable. I could actually _feel_ that something bigger bound the two together.

I don't know why I've never been able to see it before. It's like one of those illusion pictures that take forever to see the first time. After you've seen it once, it's so obvious that you wonder how you could have _not_ seen it.

Just when I think that there cannot possibly be more surprises left for the day, I see the understanding and acceptance settle on Damon's face. He holds his arm out to Elena, and escorts her to his brother, placing her hand in his.

While I watch my best friend pledge her incredibly long life to Stefan, I think about all the things that brought us to this day. All the things we'd faced together… Surviving had been nearly impossible, and victory was, literally, a miracle. Seeing an actual happy ending was, I don't know, a blessing, or something. Even with all we'd done, none of us _deserved_ to be here. It wasn't a reward, it was a gift.

"Perfect"

Damon's words broke my reverie, and before I could try to figure out what he was talking about, the church's bells begin to toll, and then the sound sweeps across the city. Some of the bells sound beautiful in their pealing, and some of them have a coarse, primitive clang to them, but all of them are ringing. I'm a little slower than the others, sometimes, so I didn't figure out that Damon had set the whole thing up until it was nearly over.

But, Damon seems genuinely happy for his brother as he asks for permission to kiss his new sister.

I like the way Damon looks, now that he isn't mooning over Elena. Hey, he _is_ a hot Italian guy, and I've already admitted my weakness.

"Easy tiger," Meredith whispers as she takes my arm, "Give him a little time to recover before you go in for the kill."

I roll my eyes at her, as we quietly make our way back inside, giving the new family some time to themselves.

**Author's Notes:**

**Well, I intended to have this chapter up ten days ago, but after I lost the original version of it I wrote, I just was never satisfied with the rewrites. Well, until this one. I still don't think it is quite as good, but that might just be because I'm disgruntled at having lost it.**

**I hope you've enjoyed reading this. By the way, if there are any enterprising young beta readers out there who'd be interested, I'd love to have somebody to read for me before I publish. It's erratic work at best; I don't publish regularly, but it does need to be done.**

**Review are longed for. Please, please, please take the time to leave one.**

**Up next: Meredith.  
**


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